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Friday, July 11, 2014

Sahara...

After
the epic journey across Mongolia from last year, my memories of the magnificent
Gobi desert remained very present inside me. There, we spent days that were as
hard as unforgettable. I left with images, sounds (or complete lack there of)
and sensations that were recorded in my mind forever. Sublime moments that make
the mere experience transcend and stick it into one's body. The kind of moments
that I live for. It is for this reason that during the days we spent in Cairo I
was filled with so much enthusiasm for the upcoming ride across the most famous
of all deserts, the Sahara. Enthusiasm and nervousness, not only because the
very idea of cycling across it intimidates, but also for being the way of
immersion into this whole new continent, completely unknown to me until now.
Far from scaring me though, this is the elixir that feeds my spirit, and
perhaps very few things I enjoy as much as feeling that itching inside the guts
that the uncertainty for the unknown generates.

We
waited until Friday to leave Cairo. Its traffic is not only hell on earth but
extremely dangerous. Since Tehran that I cannot recall a city where I felt fear
of cycling in it. Egyptians are truly charming people, but when they are behind
the steering wheel I think they become a version of Meteor on crack with no
brakes driving used European cars from the 80's. Friday on Muslim countries is
what Sunday is to the rest of the world, for this reason and for leaving early
in the morning when the city is still asleep, I was expecting the exit from
town to be a little less stressful. It was, but partly so. It still took us two
and a half hours to reach the Pyramids, the point where the city starts
progressively to dilute into an ocean of sand, before completely disappearing
after 6th of October, a ghost suburb sitting 35 km outside Cairo.

Ahead
of us lied 380 km of absolutely nothing except for a couple of ambulance
stations before reaching the first oasis. It is the end of March and the
arrival of summer is imminent but the weather is still optimal, warm and dry
but not overwhelming and we miraculously have tail wind. The long distance to
cover and the impossibility of restocking along the way forced us to leave with
our bicycles overloaded with provisions and water bottles. It had been long
since I didn't feel my bicycle so heavy. I can feel the weight on my knees and
my thighs, both struggling to push the 75 kg or so that I'm carrying. I know it
is going to take me a few days to get used to the heavy weight again but at
least the road is almost dead flat most of the time. Still, the worst thing is
that during the first two days there is nothing beautiful about the desert.
There is absolutely nothing around but there is so much traffic of trucks that
it is unbearable at times. When passing by us, the gusts of wind result of the
high speed spits sand on us. Those who go in our direction make us lose balance
and fall while those who go in the opposite stop us with total impunity. This
is certainly not the desert I was waiting for and after several hours on the
saddle an annoying feeling of disappointment starts to disturb me. It was on
the second night that I understood the origin of this traffic, when I looked
around me in the darkness and I was able to see orange spots everywhere along
the horizon. They weren't settlements but the flames coming out of the petrol
holes dug on the ground. During the first nights we found refuge in the
ambulance stations, which comprise a very modest house in the middle of
nowhere, one or two ambulances and a personnel of two to four paramedics on
duty. They welcomed us with open arms. I suspect they need us more to battle
boredom than we need them to refill our bottles of water. They invite us for
tea, for dinner, we play domino, cards and finally they give us a few
mattresses on the floor to sleep. We spent a much better time with them than if
we had camped during these boring days.

It is
on the third day when everything starts to change and reality takes a different
turn. Petrol is gone and with it, 95% of the traffic. We were left pretty much
alone in this vast desert that becomes
dazzling at a faster pace than one can possibly assimilate. I look all
around and I can see ourselves like two insignificant dots rolling across this
untamed ocean of yellow sand. Our fragility in this immensity must be so
evident that every vehicle that passes us very sporadically, stops to offer
help and water. They give us food too and they wish us the best of luck before
speeding up again.

At
sunset, as I look all around me, I can see the dunes dominating the horizon,
their facets either golden or dark. That's when I realized that something truly
special has begun. The initial disappointment was finally left behind and the
enthusiasm for the days to come recovered its strength.

After almost 400 km in 4 easy
days we finally reached Bahariya oasis. The impact, at least in this first
oasis, wasn't the one I was expecting. It certainly doesn't have the image that
one might have in mind of an oasis, the one we might have picked up from the
books of stories of the desert, that of an idyllic place surrounded by palm
trees swaying in the wind, camels, Bedouins, ponds. Quite the contrary
actually, Bawiti is nothing but a dusty unappealing town of streets covered in
sand where men walk around wrapped in their gallabiyas and turbans
whereas women seem not to exist at all, you just don't see them anywhere. At
least here, the true oasis lies within the houses made of adobe, with their vaulted roofs, their solid
exterior walls preserving the privacy of their fresh inner patios filled with
plants and bougainvillea and water canals running through. It was in Bawiti
however, where we discovered one of the greatest treats (MANJAR) that would
accompany us for the rest of our journey across the Sahara: dates. Impossibly
delicious, they fall by the thousands from the beautiful date palms that sway
with the wind all over. The people of this oasis have even pushed the
deliciousness even further and created a delicacy of dates stuffed with roasted
almonds. Needless to say they immediately became our daily dessert after
dinner. Dedicating to taste this kind of local flavours and specialities is yet
another of the daily pleasures of traveling the world. Two days of resting, water reserves fully refilled,
food restocked and a couple of extra kilos of stuffed dates and off we were to
one of the most awaited sections of this journey. After leaving Bahariya it
only takes a handful of miles until being surrounded by desert again, and this
time the presence of the nothingness become very noticeable. There is almost no
traffic now, solitude begins to take over and the desert around us starts
taking more and more extraterrestrial shapes. After a few hours the Sahara
becomes the so called Black Desert, when the yellow of the sand becomes more
like a toasted dark brown and mountains in the shape of truncated pyramids
start shaping the horizon. But this is just a moment of transition.

Because
here, the terrain expresses in shapes and colors the rigorousness of an
inhospitable land. From one extreme to the other, we left the Black Desert and
in a matter of a few miles it all becomes the exact opposite. We were finally
entering the famous White Desert and as if nature itself has made the sign, it
is a mountain that virtually indicates the beginning. Seen from afar, it looks
like any other ordinary mountain, but as we get closer and closer we realize
that it glitters here and there as we move around it. It is in fact no ordinary
mountain, it is a mountain made of pure quartz and it is really stunning (even
when the following photo doesn't show it properly)

We reached its top at the end of the day and from there,
while contemplating the mesmerizing beauty of the vast emptiness of the desert,
I spotted a place to camp in absolute solitude. The sun fell like a giant
orange and it looked as if it were going to roll along the horizon when
reaching the ground.

When
night finally set in, I confirmed once again the reason why I believe we should
all travel and never give in to live our lives sitting in front of a computer
screen during day to later fall apart on a couch in front of a stupid
television. Because there is nothing more beautiful than lying on the ground,
right there in nature and be the first to watch the best movie that you will
have seen in your life. It changes every day and it never bores you.

The
days that followed along the White Desert where the most similar to an
otherworldly experience. Everything around us turned into mysterious forms that
extended indefinitely, 360 degrees around us. Are we in planet Earth or are we
simply cycling on the moon?

The daily temperature rose
considerably reaching highs of 38 C. All the the yellow mantle of sand that
surrounded us until then started to turn into a white so pure that made the
reflection of the sun unbearable for the retina. Even wearing sunglasses I
would have to frown when looking ahead of me.

The
worst thing that could happen in the Sahara when reaching the middle of the day
is to find yourself without refuge. With a sky so immaculate, the hope for some
clouds is the closest thing to an utopia, more than an absurd dream, a
hallucination. Clouds here are as real as the massive lakes of water that we
see every day ahead of us while we are riding. No matter how we always keep
moving towards them, they never ever become real. We are left with leaning (or
sitting when possible) against whatever chalk-rock formation we find. The sun
is almost perpendicular to the Earth now so the shadow space is minimal if
completely non-existent. We lean against one and we have to move to the next
one only minutes later. The sand burns, the reflection pierces the retinas and
you just have to wait until the sun starts to go down once again.

During
daytime, the White Desert is stunning, but when the sun starts to go down it is
simply unforgettable. The chalk-rock formations rise notoriously wherever you
may look. Centuries upon centuries of erosion have sculpted them exquisitely
giving them shapes that defy gravity. They remind me of those at the Valley of
the Moon in the Argentine province of San Juan, but those aren't as white as
these ones that look closer to carrara marble. The fact that they are visible
from the road is too enticing to easily let go, so we venture into the middle
of nowhere. It is too tempting, they are the moments in which I can feel my
body go crazy with the tingling all over it.

With
the bicycles so heavy on load we are forced to push a lot on the sand, but in
my heart I suspect the reward will be huge tonight. By the time we are already
surrounded by these massive natural sculptures, I tell Julia: “let's keep
pushing and find the dreamiest place to camp tonight”

And
we found it. The sun finally set. To one side we have an Expressionist painting
with purples, blues and whites, colors so cold that they go in direct
contradiction with the intense heat the chalk-rocks emanate after a full day of
being exposed under a blazing sun.

Behind
me, I can see the massive towers that flank our tent. They are huge, they still
rise after centuries of unforgiving wearing. Dusk brings an incredibly electric
blue sky. We start cooking dinner in the most absolute solitude. The stove is
so noisy and the desert so silent that I fear a Bedouin will eventually show up
from nowhere to tell us to turn it off. We dine under millions of stars, the
restaurant with the most magnificent imaginable view.

Once we are finally camped I
set off to wander the area while I digest the food. The phantasmagorial shapes
of the rocks cut out against a background filled with billions of stars, the
skyline is as dazzling as spooky. I know nothing about the stars but I just
know they hypnotize me. Some are so big that they look like planets, perhaps
they are. I feel like a kid in a world of fantasy. I walk around the
formations, they draw smiles on me and fill my mind with images that I will
never forget. The temperature in the desert drops between 25 and 30 C at night
but the rocks have absorbed so much heat during day that they emanate it for
several hours well into the night. As I walk enjoying the fresh air I am
suddenly hit by a torrid wave of intense heat coming from the rocks.

As I walk back to our camp, I
stand in awe at the tent illuminated in the middle of nowhere, the rocks behind
it, the stars above it. I say to myself: “what a blessing, Sahara”. Sometimes I
find myself in such magnificent places and situations that I find it hard to
believe that they are real and that I got there on my bicycle. The magic of the
life of an adventurer at its best. It is for moments like these that I live for
and for which I celebrate existence.

The
White Desert extends until the very edges of Farafra, the second oasis. Far
from everything, Farafra is also a dusty town mostly covered in sand, not
particularly charming either, but at least in it, you can already get a sense
of what life in the desert is like. It is so deep into the desert and so
removed from the cities that the atmosphere is really different. Along its
streets men walk wrapped in their gallabiyas and big turbans around
their heads. Women don't seem to exist here either, this is a land of men of
thick wrinkled skin and fairy tale moustaches. I enter a tea house and I feel
like Han Solo coming into the den of Jabba The Hutt. It feels as though I'm in
a Star Wars scene. I'm so excited that I think I'm not 35 anymore. The
characters around me are simply fascinating.

In Farafra we met with Scott
and Sarah from Canada and the U.S. They come from Cairo like us and we decided
to continue cycling together for the next few days. Days of good company
followed, sharing stories of the road, but most importantly learning a bit
about cooking. Sarah is a chef, and with her we discovered that there's a
possible world of cooking beyond rice and pasta, pasta and rice.

Far from finishing, the
stunning beauty continues along isolated and fascinating roads. The beauty
overwhelms me. The Sahara is immense, vast, with shapes that never cease to amaze me on
both sides of the road.

However,
while we are in the middle of the extasis, it reminded us that its nature is
first and foremost wild and inhospitable. In a day that we will never forget,
the temperature rises well above 40 C. A brutal wind blowing from the south
transforms the experience into a bone-breaking exercise. Fighting head wind is
horrible, it's frustrating, demoralizing and infuriating. If we add high heat
into the mix it is asphyxiating. The wind is so strong that it stops our bicycles, leaving us cycling at a miserable
10 km/h and suffering the effort to stay at the speed. The gusts send millions
of needles to my legs and I curse at the sky yelling: “WHO THE FUCK ORDERED
THIS ACUPUNCTURE SESSION????” We didn't reach any possible place to rest but
the four of us decided to just lie on the ground using our bicycles as shades
from the sun and lunch dates. 5.30 hours have passed and we only cycled 48 km,
with no wind and keeping up the same pace we would've cycled at least 200 km.
After a pseudo resting time we couldn't stand the heat staying still for too
much longer so we decided to continue. As we jumped on our bicycles again
something truly unexpected happened. The wind changed direction 180 degrees as
though the desert had appreciated all the painful effort we had done until then.
Now we find ourselves flying effortlessly at 35 km/h. I look down at my feet
pushing the pedals and I can see the entire road covered by thin veil of sand flying in the same
direction. All my body hurts but I feel such relief that I cannot explain, I
feel like crying out of joy. We did the following 55 km in less that two hours.
However it all came at a price. The next day I wake up with my right knee
feeling like a rusty old spring, I cannot extend my leg completely nor I can
fully crouch. I suspect it's a meniscus problem that I have been dragging since
Korea. It became evident now. Cycling the following days as I could, we reach
Al-Qasr the third oasis and the most beautiful. Al-Qasr is finally what you
always dreamed about fantisizing about what a oasis would be like. A green spot
of fertility in the middle of the desert, date palms gently swaying in the
wind, more men in turbans and gallabiyas, donkeys and a few cows.
Flanking the whole oasis are some high mountains of sand that preserve the
oasis from the ferocious winds of the Sahara. We didn't stay in the Oasis
itself but in a small village on the edge of it, 6 km outside the center, where
life stands still, it was magical. We decided to stay for 2 days and let my
knee rest and hopefully recover.

There was little progress
though. My meniscus is still evidently mad at me and refuses to rotate properly
again but I do also refuse to give up this experience across the Sahara so I
keep going as best as I can. We continued until Al-Kharga. This stretch of
desert is now nothing but pure eternal sand. I feel that if for some reason I
go off-road, the desert will swallow me and nobody will ever have a possible
way to know what happened to me.

But I
can't help myself, friends. I am an adventurer and I turn into a kid in a world
of fantasy in a place like this. I ask Julia to wait for me while I go and play
around the dunes to start saying good-bye to my 35 years. They are smooth as
silk, I want to feel them under my wheels even when I can't ride on them. Generally
speaking, we tend to associate sand to something very annoying. We have the
image of being on the beach and having it all stuck on our bodies like if we
were marinated. However, the Sahara desert redefines the experience of the
sand. The weather is so dry that one can get showered in sand without having
any single grain left stuck one the skin. No matter how hot it is, I spill it
al over my body to see it slide gently all the way back down to the ground. It
is wonderful, I could stay here playing all day building castles of sand and
would never get tired of it. I have a regression to my childhood and I hope it
doesn't have to do with the imminent arrival of my birthday, which will get me
closer to my 40's than to my 30's this year. I stop thinking about it and I
keep playing like a child when so many people my age are already playing with
their own children. So what?

After
Al-Kharga we split from Scott and Sarah and continued our way to Luxor alone
again. There are only 300 km left but we have to climb about 900 m to reach a
huge deserted plateau. The heat is already becoming noticeable. Spring time is
nothing more than an anecdote in these lands and summer strikes faster than we
can even foresee it. The end of the day keeps bringing us some truly memorable
moments and I suddenly realize that my knee might be starting to forgive me.

The
landscape up here is much rockier and less sandy but we set ourselves to make
the most out of every minute we have left. Even me, that I usually live the
present moment very intensely, I am already lamenting before it is over, it's
just that this is so damn beautiful! Every night, every camp is a blessing. The
arrival of the moon has certainly stolen a few million of stars out of our
favorite TV show, but it allows us to cook and dine without the need of a head
lamp or torch. Everything around us is completely visible right in the middle
of the night. A couple of white foxes visit us during the night but they are so
incredibly quick and shy that I don't have time to capture them with my camera.
The time for digestion has come and it's time now to lay down on the sand and
watch the telly. Tonight they play: “Millions of stars and the moon” I'm very
excited, I love this show even when I watch it every night, it is always different.
I look up at the stars lying on my bed of sand and I can't help but wonder why
Hollywood has created that stupid stereotype of a romantic date involving a
dinner with candles and red wine, cigarettes followed by a night spent on a bed
sized to fit four elephants and silk sheets.
Friends, if that's romantic I am certainly not romantic because I can't
help but feeling that there isn't anything more romantic than these dazzling
desert nights and just a few belongings.

After
a few days we finally descended from the plateau and arrived at the first
crossroads in a long time. From there, it is only one more day to reach Luxor,
on the Nile, but now again with the unsolicited company of the heavy traffic of trucks, although after
leaving the desert, everything seems heavy.

A
part of me is extremely happy, my soul and my heart feel completely alive. This
journey has taken me back to my favorite world, the one of adventures, the
unknown and the uncertainty. Around 1400 km have passed since we left Cairo I
feel that extremely rewarding satisfaction of having got over a new challenge.
On the other hand, I know very well that once we reach the Nile I will yearn
badly for the magic of the desert. With every new desert that I cycle across,
the more I fall in love with this type of landscape. Desert is a word that
usually brings up negative connotations. I believe that one has to experience
the desert from the inside, feel the emotions it triggers, get over its rather
violent slaps on the face, to ultimately realize that behind its inhospitable
environment it is capable of arising some truly sublime emotions, a squandering
of spectacular colors and shapes that only belong to it. As I said at the very
beginning, the rewards for those who dare to take the challenge are big, really
really big. We have just barely reached half of the whole journey across the
Sahara and I'm really looking forward to the next stage.

2 comments:

Hi NicoJust finished reading your Sahara entry. Wow.Truly an amazing accomplishment, beautifully written, and stunning images.Your writing wonderfully captures the essence of the delight and wonder that your journey brings, despite what must often be brutal conditions. Really nicely done.Hope the two of you continue to safe safe and that your overworked knee continues to hang in there. Michael Sherman, Canada